


The Ascension of General Aseph

by semiiramiis (HikaruAdjani)



Category: Aion (Video Game)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikaruAdjani/pseuds/semiiramiis





	The Ascension of General Aseph

Aseph stared, unwilling to accept what his eyes told him. His mind had told him this months ago. His heart had told him weeks ago. And now, his eyes told him now. What more did he need to finally accept the obvious? The only 'friend' he had, the only one who never called him names, the only one who smiled when she saw him...was using him. It was all just a lie. He had no friends. And he'd ruined his life for her, for this... his mind refused to come up with words to describe her now.

He'd had a plan to escape, just seconds ago, but it seemed like his mind had bogged down and refused to move. “Wayla.” He was surprised he could even still speak, but he did and she fell gracelessly out of Cordo's grasp, trying vainly to make certain her clothes covered what she had been so happy to let that one explore...while she'd always been primly chaste when it came to Aseph. Waiting, she said. Obviously waiting meant waiting for another. He felt sick, empty, lost and used. She'd never loved him, she'd never even liked him. He was worse than nothing to her, he was something she could benefit from, and he'd been too stupid to see it. Ugly, gullible, stupid...he was just a real piece of work.

“Did you...?”

Did he? After that, she still dared ask! He held out his hand, the oricalcum chain dangling, caught in his dark claws, the large, wine colored jewel spinning insultingly at the nadir of the chain. “I loved you.” He stated simply, flipping his hand so that the pendant fell back into his grip. “And you risked my life for this?”

“If you're caught with that, Aseph, you're a dead man.” She spat at him, holding out her hand for it, and now, finally, he saw the greed in her eyes. Now that it was too damned late.

“I'm already a dead man, Wayla. I was seen.” He could run, he supposed, but what was the point now? The only reason he'd kept going had just failed him.

Cordo bridled back from him, his handsome face a study in denial. Ah, yes. How dare Aseph come back here? How dare Aseph endanger Wayla, and now, Wayla's on the sly lover? “You're going to bring them here, Aseph!” He growled, standing to his full height. Although that full height was much fuller indeed than Aseph's full height, Aseph was still unimpressed. Cordo was tall. Handsome. And had not a chance in the world of getting a set of claws on the smaller, faster Aseph.

“So? You weren't supposed to be here, were you?”

“You'd implicate me on this because...” The light dawned in the man's eyes, literally...his eyes smouldered in the darkness, but again, he'd have to catch Aseph first.

“Maybe you should run.” Aseph offered with a faint smile, backing out of the hut. If he hadn't been stunned, he'd had a solid plan. He could have hidden the pendant here, with Wayla, and backtracked fast enough to intercept the guards on the high road. They would have never come down here, and he could have led them for a joyous chase. Even if he was doomed, Wayla wouldn't have been. But that was when he'd still loved her. Now there was just a sinking, dead resignation in his gut and he didn't care if he brought them all down with him. It was justice.

“Just give me the necklace, Aseph!” She hissed, stumbling to her feet and trying to give chase. “If they know you took it already...”

Then why shouldn't she have it? He laughed at the very idea, she just didn't know when to stop. “I see you now.” He said, dancing out of her way. “This was your doing. And you should do some paying for it.” His eyes blurred with tears when he spun, and ran for his life.

It took them three days to finally catch him, chasing him through Brustonin's broken lands but they had an advantage he did not. They could fly, and he could not. He was not blessed, not an ascended daeva. He was merely trash trying to run from at least one archon bound and determined to bring him to justice.

At least with an offended daeva lord as the injured party and an archon involved, it would all be over soon. Aseph set his jaw as the much larger archon dragged him into the keep's yard and secured him to the whipping post, stripping him to his waist and shearing the thick dark back mane that flowed down his back. The sentence for his crimes was death, and it was obvious that the lord had chosen death by lashing... a long, drawn out and agonizing death.

The first ten strikes were an agony beyond any that he'd ever experienced, the archon was obviously trying to get it over with, as soon as possible. But suddenly, the pain vanished and he opened his eyes in confusion. Was he dead already? Was it over?

You can free yourself.

Yes, he could. His bonds were loosening, he could slip free. He was good at things like that, but to what end? They'd just catch him again, immediately.

They will not catch you. Run for the overlook edge.

The edge. He'd fall to his death, but that would be a quicker, cleaner ending than this was. He sliced through his bonds with his thumb claw and was running before the archon quite knew what had happened. His claws caught the cobbles as he pushed himself to full speed, scattering blood drops like rose petals as he fled. The stairs, two, three at a time as he surged for the ramparts and the overlook. He couldn't slow, he couldn't pause, he just had to charge. And charge he did, right off of the precipitous drop, hundreds of feet to the valley floor below.

And fly, my son.

There was a sudden, agonizing yank behind him and Aseph was no longer falling, but gliding. His back burned, cramped, but his weight was firmly supported on a pair of black wings, each feather marked with a subtle gray barred pattern. He managed an awkward landing on the riverbank and had an even more awkward moment trying to figure out what to do with those wings now that they'd appeared and saved his life, in more ways than one. He needed to sit down. He needed to lie down before he passed out.

He heard wings that were not his own, and he huddled in the protective canopy offered by his. They couldn't touch him now. He was a daeva. He was blessed. If he just kept repeating that to himself, it would all be fine.

“What's your name, boy?” The archon asked gruffly, just a couple of paces away, and Aseph risked a glance through his feathers. A big man, Aseph had already determined that. He'd removed his helm now, and he was suddenly a surprisingly plain faced big man, harnessed in a majestic set of heavy plate armor.

“Aseph.”

“An honor.” The man said simply, picking up one of Aseph's newly shed feathers and running it through his claws. “Welcome, my brother. Sit. Sit. Can't have you dying before we lock you into an obelisk, that would just be a tragedy.”

“I can't die now. I'm a daeva.” Did the man think he was a fool? Every child knew that daevas were immortal. Unaging. Undying. And he was now a daeva. He had the unassailable proof of that dragging with a agonizing weight against his mangled back.

“So you don't want your back tended? Like the feeling of your own blood drenching your feathers?” The archon asked with an edge of sarcasm, and Aseph had to admit he had a point. His ascension to daeva hadn't healed his wounds, hadn't balmed his pain in the slightest bit.

“I don't understand.” He admitted, sitting on one of the largest boulders to allow the man easier access to his back. “I'm too worthless to be a daeva.” If Aseph had to consider it, he'd be the least likely of any person he knew for that. He wasn't handsome by any means, always thin, always furtive and small, hairy and easily overlooked. Wasn't the smartest one around, either. He wasn't stupid or slow, he just wasn't brilliantly brilliant. He was lower than the low, a peasant with some minor gift of parting nobles from their baubles. Hardly a daeva prospect...

“Aion sees the value in you, Aseph. And as time passes, I am confident many others will.” The man sighed, kneeling beside him and motioning away from the keep. “Do you have anyone here?”

“No.” Absolutely not. Now that he'd gone and done this, Wayla would find him an undeniable prize. He wasn't going to be used by her any longer, he wasn't going to let her hurt him again. He was done with all of that. “Can I leave here?”

“Of course. You are one of Aion's chosen, Aseph. Asmodae and her people wait for you, their champion.”


End file.
